


A War Of Ravens And Roses

by WhispersInTheWing



Category: Game of Thrones (TV), Supernatural
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Dothraki, F/M, Game of Thrones-esque, Implied Mpreg, Inspired by Game of Thrones, Ironborn Mary Winchester, Khal Crowley, Khaleesi Castiel, King's Landing, Kingsguard, M/M, Minor Character Death, Mpreg, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Rape/Non-con Elements, The Author Regrets Nothing, Wildlings - Freeform, Winterfell, non consensual underage sex, sort of but not really
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-16
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2018-08-31 10:29:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8574826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhispersInTheWing/pseuds/WhispersInTheWing
Summary: John Winchester is Lord of Winterfell- The last major city before the Wall. Tucked in the heart of the North forest, Winterfell is away from the chaos of King's Landing in the South. But when a raven arrives from King's Landing with a dire message, will John and his youngest son Sam be able to wade through the chaos and come out in one piece? And what of his eldest son, Dean Winchester of the Kingsguard? Who King Michael sent across the narrow sea to go face to face with one of the most fearsome Dothraki Khals in history. How will Dean deal with meeting the Dothraki's beautiful Khaleesi who is hiding a major secret? Only time will tell for the Winchesters of Winterfell.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first time writing a Game of Thrones style piece. It will have some aspects of GOT, including (obviously) place names and some characters. Some of the plot may come from GOT but I'm not sure yet.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> Much Love, S

Lord John Winchester stood at the tower window, staring out at the beauty before him. The last major city before the Wall, Winterfell lay nestled in the heart of the north forest, away from the chaos of King’s Landing in the south.

“My Lord?” A timid voice pondered from behind him. John turned to find his bastard son Adam clutching a strip of parchment in his hands. “There was a raven, from King’s Landing. King Michael sent Dean with fifty of the Kingsguard across the Narrow Sea into Dothraki territory. He has summoned you to serve in the Kingsguard to replace the men gone and he commands that you bring Lord Sam with you to King’s Landing.”

John grimaced. Why couldn’t the damn Novaks leave him and his blood in peace? “Michael knows crossing the Narrow Sea is a death sentence. 50 men against an entire Dothraki army? It’s suicide! Prepare the horses, we leave immediately. I will address the people of Winterfell before our departure,” John remarked. 

“Right away my Lord.” Adam scurried from the room, hurrying down the tower steps towards the stables.

John scrubbed a hand over his beard. He hadn’t the slightest clue as to why Michael wanted him to bring his youngest son with him to King’s Landing, but knew he would find out soon when he arrived. He strode from the tower, intent on seeing his wife before he rode to King’s Landing.

\----------

Lady Mary Winchester dropped her cup of wine, the blood red liquid splattering on the floor. “Dean’s crossed the Narrow Sea? No, it can’t be! King Michael would never go to war against the Dothraki like that. You must speak to the King when you arrive in King’s Landing and convince him to bring his bannermen home.” Mary stood, tears brimming in her eyes. Her hand shook as she laid it on her husband’s arm, knowing it would be the last time she would touch John for some time.

John took Mary’s face in his hands, committing his wife’s beautiful image to memory. “I will do everything I can to sway Michael’s hand and bring our son home safe. But you must have faith in Dean. He is a skilled warrior and can handle a few Dothraki savages.” John pressed lips to Mary’s forehead, breathing in the scent of lavender oil. “Now I need you to be strong and rule over Winterfell while Sam and I are gone. I promise to return to you as soon as I am able.”

Mary smiled up at John. “Winterfell will be just as you left it when you return to me, my husband. Is Sam ready for the journey south?”

John nodded. “Yes he is. I’ll send him in to say his goodbyes. Then we ride for King’s Landing.” John kissed Mary deeply, sealing his promise to return. The two parted, and John wiped a stray tear from Mary’s cheek. “No more tears, my love.”

The chamber door slammed open, a chestnut haired blur launching into Mary’s arms. “I don’t want to go to King’s Landing, mother! I want to stay here in Winterfell with you. What if King Michael sends me away like he did Dean?” Sam whined, burying his face in his mother’s robes.

A petite woman followed Sam more slowly into the room, a few locks of her ebony hair falling from the pile atop her head. “Now, now little Lord,” She began. “What have I told you a dozen times before? Always knock before entering another’s chambers, even if it’s in your own home. You never know what one might be doing behind closed doors. I’m so sorry M’lord, M’lady. This one keeps me on my toes all hours of the day. If I take my gaze off him but for a moment, he slips away from me.”

John laughed, ruffling his son’s soft hair. “It is quite alright Camiritte. Mary and I know very well how much of a handful Sam can be. Leave us please, we have much to discuss.”

Camiritte bowed slightly. “Of course M’lord. I pray to the old Gods and the new that your journey on the King’s Road is a safe one. I will see you when you return Little Lord. Try not to cause too much trouble in King’s Landing.” Camiritte smiled and turned on her heel, closing the door gently behind her.

Mary took a step back, looking down at her youngest son as she held him by the shoulders. “King Michael won’t send you away Sam. Now, I don’t know why he has requested your presence as well, but we can only look at this positively. You are almost of age, and Queen Naomi and I have discussed the possibility of you marrying one of the princesses.”

“But I don’t _know_ any of the princesses! What if I don’t like the one I’m supposed to marry?” Sam pondered, brow knit in worry.

Mary couldn’t help but chuckle at her youngest son. “We don’t always like the one we marry at first; Gods know I didn’t care for your father the first time we met. But the best kind of love is built slowly, on years of getting to know one another. I abhorred Winterfell from the moment I arrived; it was too cold and too far from the sea. As an Ironborn, I grew up in the sea.” She stroked Sam’s hair as she spoke. “I even ran away, but since I didn’t know the area I ended up heading north instead of south. I was hopelessly lost and surrounded by a pack of Wildling men, when your father came riding in on a black horse, sword drawn high in the air. He cut down every last Wildling and swept me up onto his horse, and from that moment I was smitten.”

Sam stared up at his mother with wide wondering eyes. “You never told me that story before. I didn’t know you weren’t from the north.”

Mary tsked, smoothing a hand over her son’s hair. “I’ve told you that story at least a dozen times. It isn’t my fault that you never pay attention.” She kissed his forehead and urged him towards the door. “See the blacksmith before you go. I’ve had a sword forged just for you to protect you on the King’s Road.”

Mary and John watched Sam race from the room, the prospect of a new sword overpowering his fear of leaving Winterfell.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for another short chapter. I haven't had nearly as much time to write as I want to, and this chapter took a long time to piece together. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Much Love, S

The young boy had never been beyond Winterfell’s borders, and King’s Landing was like throwing him to the sharks. “I still don’t think it’s a good idea for Sam to accompany you to King’s Landing. Michael must have something else up his sleeve. I wish Dean hadn’t been sent away; he would have kept an eye on Sam to make sure he didn’t get into trouble,” Mary sighed. She stroked her hand down her husband’s cheek.

“I promise you, no harm will come to Sam in King’s Landing. Michael’s children as well as his siblings will keep watch over Sam to ensure he is safe,” John murmured, kissing Mary’s hand. “Michael’s younger brother Gabriel is around Sam’s age, I’m sure he will not mind watching over him.”

“Make sure you send a raven to let me know you have arrived at King’s Landing safely. And that’s not a request,” Mary stated. “Now go, address your people before your departure.”

John kissed Mary one last time, stroking a hand through her blonde hair. “I will return my love. I swear it.”

Mary watched John leave the room, her hands drifting down to rest over the slight swell of her stomach. She hadn’t had time to tell John about the child that grew inside her before the raven from King’s Landing had arrived. Now she would have to wait until her husband returned home, where he would find a new Winchester waiting to meet their father for the first time.

She moved to the window, looking down at Winterfell laid out before her. The people began to gather below, waiting with bated breath to hear what Lord Winchester would say.

“King Michael has requested my presence in the Kingsguard and I will be departing today for King’s Landing. Lord Sam will be accompanying me, and Lady Mary will be in charge while I am gone. I hope to return before the Summer ends, but I cannot guarantee anything. If you require anything Lord Singer of the Vale will assist you,” Lord Winchester’s voice echoed across the courtyard. “I will send a raven when I arrive at King’s Landing.”

The citizens of Winterfell watched in stunned silence as their Lord stepped from his pedestal and crossed the courtyard to the stables. Sam was already there waiting for him, perched atop his chestnut colored horse Eagle-eye and turning his new sword in his hand, captivated by the light reflecting off the steel.

“Are you ready to depart, Samuel?” John asked as he moved to his own horse, white as snow and ran a hand over its flank. The horse had carried him to all seven kingdoms and through many wars, he’d had Winterfrost since he was a boy. He swung up into the saddle, grabbing the reins loosely in his hands.

“I’m ready,” Sam replied, sheathing his sword and grabbing Eagle-eye’s reins. A myriad of emotions churned in his belly. He was excited to be going on a journey to new lands, but at the same time he was anxious and scared of the obstacles they might face on the King’s road. “I just wish Dean was there to greet us when we arrive at King’s Landing.”

“As do I son. As do I." John nudged Winterfrost forward, and the two flew from Winterfell towards King's Landing in the south.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean Winchester drew his horse to a stop on a cliff overlooking a valley dotted with rolling hills. A Dothraki camp lay to the south, smoke from their campfires rising in the distance. His second in command, a wiry man by the name of Osiric, saddled up beside him. Osiric shielded his eyes against the sun, straining to make out the number of Dothraki in the camp.

“Our scout says there are at least two dozen Dothraki warriors in that camp alone,” Osiric reported.

“—which means Kahl Crowley has at least ten times that many lying in wait somewhere. And with four of our own men missing, we don’t stand a chance of taking on Crowley head on,” Dean finished with a sigh. He turned his horse back towards the Kingsguard camp. “Send a raven to Michael and request he send more of his bannermen to aid us here.”

Dean dismounted his horse, handing the reins off to one of the other men. “Men, listen! We will hold our position here while we wait for additional reinforcements. I will not send us into a battle we cannot win; I will not hand us to the jaws of the beast,” Dean commanded. “But if Crowley attacks first, we will not hesitate to return fire.”

A wave of agreement rolled through the camp, the men agreeing that it wasn’t worth die over. They would wait until they received word from King’s Landing before proceeding. Most of them had families back home in the seven kingdoms that were counting on them to return.

“Eat and get some rest. We need to be on alert in case the Dothraki go on the move; I’ll take first watch,” Dean picked up his bow and quiver from beside the fire and sheathed his sword.

\----------

The quiet of the night was shattered by a panicked shout and the sounds of a struggle. Dean shot to his feet, nocking an arrow in his bow as he scanned the dark valley for the source of the voice. He spotted two dark figures racing across the valley, one obviously chasing the other.

“No! Stay away from me!” The smaller of the figures shouted, stumbling on unseen rocks and holes. Dean slowly made his way down the hill, ready to jump in to the woman’s aid if necessary. The man caught up to her, knocking her to the ground and climbing on top of her.

“No! Please, no!” The woman screamed, pounding her fists against the man’s chest as he ripped her robes open. 

“Fuck,” Dean cursed as he raised his bow and let the arrow fly. It hit its target with a sickening thump, dropping the man dead to the side.

“Hello? Are you alright?” Dean called out as he set his bow on the ground and jogged over to the prone figure.

The woman scrambled to her feet, gathering her torn robes to her shield her nakedness. She stared down at the Dothraki who had been pursuing her for a moment, tears shining on her cheeks in the moonlight. She looked up as Dean approached and that was when he saw that it wasn’t a woman at all. It was a lithe raven-haired boy, no older than his own 18 years.

“Are you alright?” Dean asked again, kneeling down to the boy’s level.

The boy shrank away, trying to hide his face in shadow. “I-I’m fine. Thank you for saving me from that … beast. But I need to get back before he wakes up. He’ll punish me if he discovers I’ve left his bed. I’m sorry, I must go.” He jumped to his feet, turning and taking off back towards the Dothraki camp in the distance before Dean could ask his name.

Dean watched him disappear into the darkness. The boy looked awfully familiar, and his accent was definitely one from the Seven Kingdoms, but besides that Dean couldn’t place a name to his face. He hoped that he would get to see the boy again, and maybe take him as a spoil of war back to King’s Landing.

Dean plucked the arrow from the fallen Dothraki and wiped the blood off. He trudged back to his camp, where he could see his men beginning to stir from the commotion. “Everything’s alright men. There’s nothing to worry about; just a Dothraki slave making a break for it. Everyone go back to sleep. Osiric, Benny, I want you to take the next watch shift. Be aware that the Dothraki might retaliate for their fallen man.” Dean retreated into his tent, falling asleep to the thoughts of the beautiful boy spread out in his bed with him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Sorry for the short chapter, but I figured a short chapter was better than no chapter at all.
> 
> Much Love, S

Castiel tiptoed through the Dothraki encampment, holding his breath as he prayed to the old gods and the new that none of the warriors would awaken. Crowley would punish him if he was found outside the Khal’s tent. He pulled his robes up as they slipped down his shoulder. Crowley would question why his robes had been torn, and Castiel wasn’t sure if he had a good lie as to why.

He breathed a sigh of relief as he snuck back into the tent, stripping out of his robes before settling down beside the Dothraki. Castiel bit back a groan, caressing the gravid globe of his stomach as the Dothraki child inside him squirmed and kicked. He was very thankful that the man from the ridge had not noticed his condition. Castiel doubted that he would have let him go if he knew.

Crowley rolled over in his sleep, arm snaking over Castiel’s stomach and pulling the small boy in close to him. Castiel could no longer suppress the groan as the child reacted to its father being near.

“Mmm, what’s the matter love?” Crowley mumbled, still half asleep.

Castiel looked back at the Dothraki, forcing a smile onto his face. “It is nothing of import. Your child is particularly active this time of night. And being so close to its father does not help it settle down.”

Crowley’s hand trailed down to rest on Castiel’s hip. “I know something to help settle our hearty offspring,” He growled, hand moving to press a finger against Castiel’s tight slit. His finger slipped inside, teasing the walls of Castiel’s channel until the boy was squirming and whimpering in need.

“Tih haj Khal, anha zigerek yeroon,” _(my strong Khal, I want you.)_ Castiel moaned, knowing that speaking to Crowley in his native tongue always spurred the older man on. It meant the ordeal would be over sooner.

Crowley chuckled lustfully in Castiel’s ear. “Yeri athtihar zheana ohazh ma tih yalli, jalan atthirari anni.” _(You look beautiful heavy with my child, moon of my life.)_

Crowley flipped Castiel onto his hands and knees, pushing aside their robes. Castiel’s heavy stomach brushed the bed. Castiel couldn’t suppress a groan at the sudden change in position. But he should be used to it by now; the Dothraki never looked him in the eye when they fucked. Though he was a Khaleesi, Crowley treated him no better than a common dog.

Crowley’s thrusts were fast and brutal, driving into Castiel’s channel like a hammer. Grunts and groans filled the tent, letting the entire camp know their Khaleesi was being fucked like a street whore. They would never respect Castiel, because he wasn’t a true Dothraki. He came from the Seven Kingdoms. He was an outsider; someone not to be trusted.

Crowley gripped Castiel’s hips tightly, depositing his seed in his Khaleesi with a growl. He never spoke during their couplings, which only served to hurt Castiel’s heart even more. He had been sold to the Khal by his eldest brothers, in exchange for his weight in gold. His parents probably never even found out what happened to him. Tears dripped down Castiel’s cheeks, blurring his vision as he collapsed onto his side.

Crowley slipped out of Castiel’s sloppy hole, rolling over and falling back asleep. Castiel let out a shuddering breath as the child within him kicked sharply. All he wanted to do was go back to his old life in the Seven Kingdoms. He never thought he would end up a Khaleesi and pregnant against his will. If only the man on the ridge had noticed his condition and taken him away from the Dothraki.

\------**--------

Dean stretched his arms above his head as he awoke in his tent, body loose and sated after fucking one of the servants the night before. Lisana was the one who frequented Dean’s bed the most; her long legs, supple alabaster skin and ample breasts never failed to slake the young guard’s thirst. He reached over, smacking her ass to wake her from sleep.

“Is it morning already?” Lisana wondered as she rolled over in bed. She stood, gathering her robes from the floor. She slipped them on, throwing her long brown hair over her shoulder.

“Yes, it is. The horses need to be fed and watered before it gets too hot. Take Cyreena with you. The Dothraki are down in the valley and I don’t want anyone getting picked off because they were alone,” Dean explained, pulling on his pants.

“As you wish.” Lisana took her leave then, the tents flaps fluttering in the slight breeze.

Dean sighed, running fingers through his hair. He would need to inform his men about the new rule, but figured it could wait until after breakfast. _“What the fuck are we doing here?”_ Dean thought as he dressed, shaking his head. King Michael was an idiot if he thought they could take on Crowley’s army and win.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I am back! I hit some MAJOR writer's block for a while with this story and couldn't seem to get more than a few sentences down at a time. Add that to the fact I'm obsessed with Outlander at the moment and it makes for some wasted days. :)
> 
> Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Much Love, S

Dean knew they’d lose half their men at least before their hopefully eventual return to King’s Landing.

“Dean?” Osiric’s voice sounded from the other side of the tent opening. “Something’s happening down at the Dothraki camp. I think you should see it.”

Dean cursed, dressing quickly and shoving his feet into his boots. He grabbed his sword, striding from his tent. He could see some of the men gathering at the edge of the cliff, watching whatever was unfolding below. The rest were racing from tent to tent, gathering armor and weapons.

“What’s going on Osiric?” Dean asked as he too approached the cliff’s edge.

“It looks like some sort of fight. Benny went down the way a bit to do some scouting, and says he saw Crowley and some other Dothraki dude fighting. Not sure what it’s about though.”

The sounds of fighting made their way up to the Kingsguard on the wind. They watched with rapt attention, waiting to see what would happen next.

~*~

Castiel was awoken by crashing and shouting, subconsciously shielding the gravid globe of his stomach. The child inside him may be Dothraki and unwanted, but it was innocent and Castiel couldn’t bear the thought of something happening to it. Rough hands pawed at Castiel, dragging him out of bed. He yelped when the Dothraki man tossed him unceremoniously to the ground, spitting on him.

“What is the meaning of this, Hartok?” Crowley demanded as he rose from bed.

“Olin is dead! A scrap of your whore’s robes were clutched in his hands. The whore must pay for Dothraki blood spilled!” Hartok gestured wildly as he spoke, jabbing his dagger in Castiel’s direction.

Crowley shoved Hartok away from Castiel, who let out a silent prayer to the Gods to protect himself and his unborn offspring.

“You will not speak of my Khaleesi in such a way! You must pay for your misspeaking.” Crowley grabbed a fistful of Hartok’s short beard, pulling him out of the tent and into the center of the camp.

Other Dothraki paused, taking notice of the battle that was about to occur. It was a spectacle to see such a battle, as it did not happen very often. They formed a loose circle around Hartok and their Khal. Their Khaleesi had yet to emerge from the tent, which was uncommon for a power battle.

“Hartok! You have disrespected my Khaleesi and in turn have insulted my Khalasar. You and I will fight to the death. Dothraki blood must be spilled on this day!” Crowley shouted, turning around and speaking to his people.

Hartok took that moment to attack, lunging at Crowley and catching him in the right side with his dagger. He laughed as he watched the blood spill out from the cut. Crowley spun around, fire in his eyes as he unsheathed his scythe. With a mighty roar he charged. Hartok stepped out of the way, the sharp crack of metal clashing together. The crowd cheered as Crowley sliced the meat of Hartok’s thigh.

Castiel finally left the tent after having fixed his robes and made sure he looked presentable. He slowly made his way to the gathered crowd; The Dothraki parting to let their Khaleesi get to the front. Castiel watched as the two men battled for dominance. They were both covered in wounds but it looked as though Crowley was gaining the upper hand.

That was until Hartok shoved the dagger into the side of Crowley’s neck with a sickening squelch in the blink of an eye.

“No!” Castiel shouted as Crowley fell to his knees.

Hartok yanked his dagger from Crowley’s neck, blood spraying out in an arc and dousing Castiel. Crowley’s body slumped lifelessly to the dirt. The crowd erupted into raucous cheers, praising and celebrating their new Khal. There would be a fight for power soon enough, with more soldiers vying for the top spot.  
Castiel shuffled forward, shock making his body numb. He couldn’t believe Crowley was dead. It seemed like a dream, the sounds around him muted. He often dreamt of killing the crass Dothraki, but never expected it to happen this way.

~*~

Dean stood suddenly, as the cheers of the Dothraki camp reached them up on the cliff. “Something’s happened,” Dean muttered quickly. “We should strike now while they are distracted.”

He led his troops down the side of the cliff, their swords at the ready. This was the moment they were waiting for; each man was more than ready to be done with the Dothraki so they could head back to King’s Landing and the Seven Kingdoms. Dean knew he couldn’t wait to send a raven back to Winterfell to let his family know he was still alive. He was the first one to race into the thick of the crowd, slicing through Dothraki’s like they were nothing. His fellow Kingsguard joined the fray, letting out a collective war cry.

Some Dothraki stayed to fight, trying in vain to protect their new Khal. Others were smart and fled during the chaos, choosing to form their own Khalasar. Castiel hadn’t moved from his knees since Crowley fell, his mind struggling to comprehend the Khal’s death. He gathered Crowley’s body in his arms, tears streaming like rivers down his face; the child inside him kicked frantically almost as if it knew one of its parents were dead.

Dean paused as he came upon the scene. Crowley’s body lay in a pool of darkening blood, a trembling figure hunched over it. It wasn’t until Dean bent down that he saw it was the boy from the night before; the one who had been chased by another Dothraki. He was sobbing silently, shoulders shaking as he clutched at the corpse. His large stomach stuck out like a target, causing Dean to inhale a sharp breath.

Castiel looked up, eyes widening at the sight of the man who had saved him from Olin the previous night. “P-please, don’t hurt me. Just let me grieve in peace,” Castiel sniffled.

Dean sighed, sheathing his sword. “I’m not going to hurt you, not when you’re with child. But it is not safe for you out here. You should go back to your tent before someone else finds you.”

“I can’t go back to my tent. Hartok will look for me there and kill me and my child. With my Khal gone, it is not safe for me around other Dothraki. You have to take me with you! Please!” Castiel begged.

Dean thought about it for a moment. It wasn’t uncommon for Kingsguard and Dothraki alike to take spoils of war, which meant his men wouldn’t look twice at the boy ending up in Dean’s tent. “Fine, I will take you back to my camp. Do not speak until spoken directly to. Do you understand?”

Castiel nodded frantically. “Yes, yes I understand. Thank you sir.” He looked back down at Crowley’s slack face, his eyes shut in eternal slumber. Castiel stroked Crowley’s cheek with the back of his hand before finally releasing him.

Dean tapped his foot in frustration. “Come on, we need to go now.”

Castiel blushed in embarrassment. “I can’t get up by myself. I need assistance.” He held his hands out and let out a long relieved breath as the man helped him to his feet. “Thank you.”

“Keep your head down and don’t talk to anyone. I’m going to get you out of here and back to my camp. You’ll be safe in my tent.” Dean took Castiel’s hand and led him through the fighting, striking down at least a dozen Dothraki on the way.

Castiel let out a sigh of relief as the pair finally reached the Kingsguard camp. His child kicked forcefully, unhappy to be moved so quickly and suddenly. He collapsed onto the furs, stroking his stomach to try and calm the child. Castiel groaned, his stomach tightening painfully.

“Are you alright?” Dean asked, bending down to catch the boy’s eyes.

A gush of water wetted Castiel’s robes. He shook his head, panting as he tried not to panic. “It’s time; my child is coming.”

Dean paled, standing up and taking a step back. “What, now?! What am I supposed to do? I’ve never delivered a baby before!”

“Get some water and some cloths, and a knife to separate us. It’s going to be a while but we need to be prepared,” Castiel instructed in between cries and grunts of pain.

Dean stuck his head out of the tent, scanning the empty camp for signs of the women. He spotted Lisana coming out of one of the other tents with a pile of clothes to take to the river for washing. “Lisana!” Dean shouted, catching the woman’s attention. “I need you over here!”

Lisana dropped the clothes and ran over, noting the panic on Dean’s face. “Is everything alright Dean?”

Dean grabbed her hand and dragged her into the tent. She gasped at the sight that greeted her, but she quickly composed herself. She crossed to the unknown figure and dropped to her knees.

“Oh looks like someone’s going to have a baby!” Lisana remarked with a smile. She figured they were probably terrified and needed a calm presence beside them.

“It’s not supposed to happen yet!” Castiel sobbed. “Two more moons must past before my child is to be born.”

“Well babies come whenever they’re ready, and this little one is saying they’re ready now.” Lisana lifted the boy’s robes, bunching them around his hips. She would help preserve as much of his dignity as she could. She glanced between his legs, trying to make sense of everything she saw. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen someone like the young boy and thus knew how to handle herself. The boy’s male genitals were strapped to the underside of his swollen belly with a soft piece of cloth, keeping them up and out of the way.

Castiel moaned in pain, hips arching off the furs as he tried to escape the intense contracting of his womb. “Please help me! It hurts so much!”

Lisana hushed the boy’s cries, placing an arm across his hips to keep them down. “I know it hurts, but you need to keep calm. You’re only going to tire yourself out. What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“Castiel,” He mumbled, the word ending in a strained groan.

Lisana smiled. “It’s nice to meet you Castiel, though I wish we’d met under better circumstances. My name is Lisana.” She turned to look at Dean. “Find Cyreena and Luce, they’re down at the river washing clothes. Tell them to put some water on the fire and bring the clean linens from the medic tent. Hurry, go now!”

Dean nodded quickly, turning on his heel and exiting the tent. Castiel let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding with a sob. He gripped Lisana’s hand when she offered it, squeezing as the pain continued to mount.

“Do not worry, everything is alright. Now I’m not familiar with Dothraki culture, is there anything special that needs to happen during a birth?” Lisana asked, grabbing a nearby pot of oil.

Castiel shook his head. “I’m not Dothraki by blood. I’m from the Seven Kingdoms. This is my first time with child.” He groaned as another contraction locked around his belly. “I just want this thing out of me!”

Lisana stroked a hand through Castiel’s sweat soaked hair. “Shh, everything will be alright. This will be over before you know it. You are surrounded by friends and we won’t let anything happen to you.”

Dean returned with two women in tow, both carrying an armful of cloth. They stopped in their tracks at the sight of Castiel.

“Well don’t just stand there,” Lisana scolded. “Bring it here. We’ll need plenty of water so make sure more is on the fire. It’s not like we haven’t seen babies being born before.”

Cyreena and Luce shuffled forward, taking sentry at Castiel’s sides. He reached for the nearest hands, squeezing them tightly as contractions rippled across his belly. Tears streamed down his face and he silently cursed his brothers to the old Gods and the new for what they’d done to him.

“Castiel, are you still with us?” Lisana’s voice cut through the haze of pain. “I need to check to see how far along you are. It’ll give us an idea of how long before your child is here.” Lisana slipped two oiled fingers gently inside Castiel’s channel, shushing him when he winced in pain. She concentrated for a moment, feeling around for what she was looking for.

“Well?” Dean asked, having kept quiet since the women arrived. “How much longer?”

“Not much longer now,” Lisana replied, wiping her hands on a cloth. “You’ve likely been in labor since last night, and the pains have only now begun to increase. They will probably get worse as your labor reaches its end.”

Castiel moaned. “No please, I can’t last that long. Cut it out of me!” He writhed in pain, hips bucking from the furs.

Luce sighed, pressing the boy’s hips back down firmly. “We cut it out, and you and the baby both die. We’ll give you something to dull the pain, but you must do this. There is no other way.”

Sounds of the raucous cheers and celebration filtered in through the tent flaps. The Kingsguard had returned from raiding the Dothraki camp and would soon come looking for Dean. They would come into the tent and see the Dothraki Khaleesi was still alive and might try to kill him and his child.

Lisana turned to Dean. “Go, see to the men and make sure they stay away from the tent. We’ll keep Castiel safe. Send in one of the other girls if you see them. Tell them to stand guard outside the tent and not let anyone in except for you.”

Dean nodded, turning on his heel and exiting his tent. Already the camp was filling up with the Kingsguard, most of them dragging Dothraki women along behind them. He spotted Benny leading a frightened woman towards his own tent. He jogged over, weaving through the growing crowd.

“Dean!” Benny remarked when he noticed the other approach. “We were victorious in defeating most of Khal Crowley’s army. Those who did not stay to be slaughtered are scattered to the wind. We won brother.”

Dean clapped Benny on the shoulder. “For now anyways. We’ll send raven to King’s Landing of our success. So have your fill of your spoils and enjoy this; just make sure not to harm the woman too much. We are better than those Dothraki dogs after all.”

Benny laughed as he moved to pull the woman into the tent. She resisted for a moment, fire in her eyes as she stared down Dean.

“What did you do with our Khaleesi, pig?” She questioned in a thick, nearly unintelligible accent. “I saw you spirit her away. Where is she?! She belongs with us!”

“She is safe; that’s all you need to know. I did not and _will not_ harm her,” Dean replied. He hoped the woman would take him at his word, and not try to find Castiel before the child was born. Dean couldn’t help but remember what Castiel said back at the Dothraki camp; that he and his child would be killed if they were found by other Dothraki.

Dean sighed, running a hand through his hair. What fresh hell has he gotten himself into now?


End file.
